Blood and Sunset, Continued.

[Yva]

((Original topic and posts: here.))

Ulthanon was going north.

Indarra curled into his side, looping an arm around his waist with a quiet sigh. She wanted him to stay with her, liking the security of him sleeping by her side, but she understood why he had to go. His friends would need him, they’d need his eyes. He’d been there before – he had to be their guide.

It all made sense, of course, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

The truth was she wasn’t ready to go back yet, and she’d be staying in Stormwind for a while yet. She was having difficulty reconciling her past, and she still hadn’t discussed Evanaya with Ulthanon, though she’d have to soon. Until she was sure she could safely keep people alive, she’d be a liability. She knew how to heal still, but the shadows were no longer content to just swim over her hands. They had spread all over her body in a dark sheath.

Shadow priestesses weren’t considered evil, though, were they? No, Annalea Al’Cair was one and still held in high regard within her own Temple.

High regard may be stretching it a bit, Grizelle.

She blinked at the voice in her head, recognizing it as her own, but thinking how it sounded wrong. It was deeper, huskier, and the mocking little laugh was too sultry to be familiar.

Not wrong you little idiot, this is how you’re supposed to sound. How you did sound.

“Oh my,” she murmured.

How mad was it to not be able to recognize your own internal monologue? She supposed the circumstances of her creation were severe, and that could account for this disassociation with familiar self, but it was still strange.

It wouldn’t be so strange if you’d just stop pretending this new self of yours was actually legitimate. They made it, molding it like clay. The real you is me.

“Yes, but you’re a bitch.”

Touche. And congratulations on your first cuss word. You’re learning.

Indarra winced; it was true, she never swore, so something of the old her was eking through even if she didn’t want it to. Swearing was frowned upon by the temple, but the temple was frowned upon by her now, right? They were responsible for her current predicament. They likely should have just sentenced her to die for her crimes.

Well, they could have just killed you. You really are a moron. Oh yes, what a noble sacrifice you would have been. Stop fooling yourself. It’s good that they didn’t kill you, us. We’re free now, free and happy, though your choice in men . . . tsk. The druid is much more suited to our tastes.

Indarra’s eyes widened. She squeezed Ulthanon tighter, almost whimpering at the suggestion that she’d made a poor choice in bedmates. He grunted in his sleep, and she eased her hold, kissing his shoulder with an irritated sigh.

“Do shut up. He protects me. He protects US. He loves me.”

No, he loves the temple’s creation, which isn’t really YOU. I’m you. We’ve been over this Grizelle. I am the TRUE you.

“Well perhaps the true me no longer suits. Perhaps I’d like to try and be a better person. Perhaps this is an opportunity to make amends.”

You can’t make amends for murder, Priestess. Even giving your own life won’t bring all of them – the many of them – back.

Stunned, Indi looked at the ceiling, letting the weight of that truth sink into her skull. There was nothing she could do to not be that person any longer. She was their murderess, and no amount of disposition shift would ever undo that part of history.

Now you’re understanding.

“Oh shut up.”

With pleasure.

[Threnn]

Tashyia is shuffling a stack of cards.
Tashyia looks at Threnn with crossed eyes.

Threnn walks slowly among the stalls, examining the wares, feeling the fabrics and considering their worth.

Tashyia says: Och luv, ye need to come see me. Fifty silver will get ye more fortune than ye can shake a stick at.

Threnn glances around.
Threnn says: Me?

Tashyia winks slyly at you.
Tashyia says: Yer it round 'bout, ain't ye?
Tashyia smiles wide.
Tashyia spreads the cards on the table and then they . . . disappear.

Threnn says: 's quiet here since the ships've sailed.

Tashyia says: S'too quiet. M'bored to tears, luvvy. An' that be why ye should come on over. Keep a lady company, yeh?

Threnn smiles.
Threnn says: I'm a bit wary of my fortune these days.

Tashyia says: An' I'm a bit too good to be passin' up. Let's make a deal.
Tashyia smiles at Threnn.
Tashyia says: If I can tell yeh somethin' I shouldn't know, an' yeh know I ain't knowin' yeh, right? Then yeh sit down. An' just cause I'm bored witless, I'll take half me fifty silver and do twenty five. But ONLY if I tell yeh somethin' worthwhile.
Tashyia shuffles the cards again, her smile brighter.

Threnn says: Well...
Threnn considers.
Threnn says: All right. Sounds fair.

Tashyia looks at Threnn.

Threnn strolls a little closer.

Tashyia says: Yer married to a northerner.

Threnn tilts her head, smiling.

Tashyia stops a second and squints.
Tashyia shakes her head and reaches into a bag at her side. She pulls out a finely wrapped cigar and goes to light it. Her eyes go a little wider and she puts the cigar down.
Tashyia says: An' yer bairn's due in the spring. . . . can't tell yet what ye be havin'

Threnn blinks. Several times.

Tashyia says: But ye got a healthy look about yeh. Yer colors ain't off.
Tashyia motions around her face.

Threnn says: How did...

Tashyia says: There's a light on everyone, ye see.
Tashyia doesn't say anything, just smiles and pushes her chair out.

Threnn glances down at herself. It's not *that* obvious yet, is it?

Tashyia says: It be me trade, luvvy.

Threnn says: I suppose it is at that.

Tashyia says: The old Arathi witches coulda told yeh how much yer bairn'ed weigh. Sad to say those days long be gone. But I do when I ken.

Threnn says: Some things should be surprises, though.
Threnn smiles.

Tashyia nods.

Threnn says: Guess I have a bargain to honor.

Tashyia says: An' that's why I ain't tryin' to figure out if yer havin' a boy or girl.
Tashyia spreads the cards again and winks.
Tashyia says: Sit yerself down. Know yer doin' me 'eart good. S'dead as doornails 'ere.

Threnn sits, watching Tashyia's hands on the cards.

Tashyia hands her the stack.

Threnn says: Likely just a matter of time before the Faire puts the North on its schedule. They go to Terrokar, now, don't they?

Tashyia says: I got rules now. If ye ain't satisfied with what I be tellin' - ye think it's a crock o'shite? - ye walk away with all yer coin.
Tashyia nods.

Threnn says: All right.

Tashyia says: Cut em, luv.

Threnn holds them a moment, then cuts them about a third of the way through the deck.

Tashyia takes the stacks and flips three cards. That's it.
Tashyia peers.
Tashyia says: Ye ain't sleepin' well are ye, luv.

Threnn looks at the cards.
Threnn says: I, uh. No. Not always.

Tashyia says: Especially late-like.
Tashyia cocks her head to the side, still staring at the cards.
Tashyia says: This card be a hunter.
Tashyia taps the middle card.
Tashyia says: It means either yer seekin' or bein' sought. But I be feelin' it's tied to the first, the Dreamer. . .
Tashyia frowns.
Tashyia says: An' that don't make no sense.

Threnn tries not to startle at that.

Tashyia taps her fingers again.
Tashyia pulls another card. She places it on the top two.
Tashyia says: An' there be yer Northern luv. He's tied in, ye ken?

Threnn says: Oh, do I ever.

Tashyia says: Hair as red as a sunset.
Tashyia laughs.
Tashyia stops laughing suddenly.
Tashyia peers at you searchingly.

Threnn 's smile falters when Tashyia's laugh cuts off.
Threnn says: ...what? What is it?

Tashyia says: Don't fret. It ain't that.
Tashyia says: I get pictures. 'ard to explain, luv, an' yer mon be lookin' like someone I knew once. Remindin' me like.
Tashyia shrugs.
Tashyia says: Nothin' bad 'ere though.

Threnn says: He's well-traveled. Wouldn't be surprised if you had seen him.

Tashyia says: Well that an' bein' from Arathi, I had me share of northern acquaintences. We North'rons be a tight group, aye?

Threnn says: 's true.

Tashyia smiles at Threnn.
Tashyia says: Well, it ain't important. Just me memory bein' odd.
Tashyia pulls another card.
Tashyia says: Yer hunter here, he be after somethin'. Lookin'. I think ye got treasures.
Tashyia smiles at Threnn.

Threnn half-smiles.
Threnn says: Gods, I wish.

Tashyia says: Yer blessin's are many, luv. Don't be thinkin' they aren't. Dark times be 'ere, but the dawn is comin'.
Tashyia shuffles the last of the deck.
Tashyia says: Cut one more time for me.

Threnn takes the cards and cuts again, about 3/4 of the way down.

Tashyia flips the top card of the second half.
Tashyia shows off "The Lady".
Tashyia says: Strong female figure. . . . youngish.
Tashyia waves her fingers around her hair, her eyes squinting again.
Tashyia says: Seein' yellow. Ye care 'bout 'er.

Threnn says: I know a few of th-- My sister's blonde.

Tashyia says: Och, that be it then. Ye see the little flames 'bout the picture?
Tashyia turns the card so she can see.

Threnn says: Yeah?

Tashyia says: That be a woman fulla piss an' vinegar.
Tashyia grins at Threnn wickedly.

Threnn quietly snickers to herself.
Threnn says: Her temper can rival my husband's.

Tashyia says: Now then, problem bein', she's tied in too. Ye got yerself a mess, luv. An' it ain't over quite yet.

Threnn 's face flashes with guilt.
Threnn says: Hell.

Tashyia says: I'd like to see it be gettin' better earliesh, but truth be told, ye got some trials comin'.
Tashyia pats her hand.
Tashyia says: Don't be kickin' yer own arse 'bout yer sister. She'll be fine. An' that

ain't the cards talkin'. That's yer face. Ye blame yerself.

Threnn says: Always promised I'd keep her safe.

Tashyia says: She don't. Tell ye true, Lamb? Ye don't need to. That girl's gonna run, an' she'll be runnin' far. Outta yer grasp. Ye can't always be 'er second Ma.
Tashyia says: But yer everyone's second Ma, ain't ye?
Tashyia pulls another card.

Threnn bites her lip.
Threnn says: Suppose I am. Not even anyone's first, yet.

Tashyia peers at a picture of a wolf.
Tashyia says: Now normal-like I be sayin' ye need solitude. But seein' this over 'ere.
Tashyia waves at the Dreamer and the Hunter.
Tashyia says: It's a pack. Wolves be pack animals. Yer fixin' will be in the pack.
Tashyia offers the deck.

Threnn says: My fixing? As in the end of the trials?

Tashyia nods.

Threnn takes the deck back.
Threnn says: Cut again?

Tashyia says: This ain't somethin' yer gonna be fixin' on yer own. Nah. This time I want yeh to pull three cards. An' that'll be the last of it.
Tashyia smiles at Threnn.

Threnn says: From the top? Or from anywhere?

Tashyia says: Och, anywhere that makes yer nethers tingle, luvvy.
Tashyia winks slyly at Threnn.

Threnn blushes a bit, then grins.

Tashyia says: Don't be lookin', be feelin'. If ye catch me drift.

Threnn says: Right.
Threnn fans them out a bit in her hands, running her fingertips along the edges.
Threnn takes two from near the middle and one from near the top.
Threnn says: These, then.

Tashyia takes them a moment and holds them to her chest, closing her yes. She sways slightly, and the bells in her hair jingle.
Tashyia puts them down and slowly flips them.
Tashyia taps the first card.
Tashyia says: A journey. yer goin' somewhere. S'the maiden o' ways.

Threnn looks at the card.

Tashyia says: She usually means a spiritual journey, though. not yer . . . boat ridin' type. I usually see this with fallen 'oly men. Tryin' to find their way back to the light. But yer faith is strong still, aye?

Threnn says: Light, I hope so. Going to need it.

Tashyia says: Then it be more. . . . but it be less, too.
Tashyia looks confused.
Tashyia says: I kinnae say exact-like what it be meanin'? But it's a spiritual journey.

Threnn says: 's been a long few days. Guessing we'll be going through a lot more of that to come.

Tashyia taps the second card. She runs her finger over the picture of a star.

Threnn says: Not easy, for a Northman to go North, yeah?

Tashyia says: This be a bairn.
Tashyia laughs at Threnn.
Tashyia says: Luv, sendin' a northmen north is like sendin' a starvin' child to a buffet. They're gonna gorge themselve til they're overfull. Some'll explode, others'll just get sick for a while.

Threnn says: Suppose, if some of the food at it is spoiled.

Tashyia shakes her head.
Tashyia says: It be a land of revenge, an' dreams. An' none of it is good.
Tashyia frowns fiercely.

Threnn nods.

Tashyia says: Right. . . . star.
Tashyia collects herself and looks back to the cards.
Tashyia taps it.
Tashyia says: A bairn.

Threnn concentrates on the card.

Tashyia says: The funny thing, it ain't next to yer card, or yer mon's. Which makes me be thinkin' it's another bairn. . . near the journey.
Tashyia again looks completely confused.

Threnn frowns.
Threnn says: Not many babies up there.

Tashyia says: Ye know, luv, I normally don't make more questions than answers. I must be gettin' old.

Threnn says: 'least, not yet.

Tashyia says: An ye may be gettin' a free one outta me yet for this mess.
Tashyia smirks.

Threnn shakes her head.
Threnn says: You're making more sense than you realize.

Tashyia looks at the third card. It is a woman bathed in light.
Tashyia says: The High Priestess. . . . perhaps she's the bairn's ma? Can't be tellin'. Righteous bitch most-like. This type usually is.
Tashyia stares at the cards, her mouth in a thin line. She seems to be concentrating.

Threnn opens her mouth, then closes it.

Tashyia says: I don't get much of a motherly air 'bout 'er. But she's tied somehow. . . . one more card. Then I be lettin' ye go.
Tashyia nods at the deck.

Threnn chooses the top card.

Tashyia flips it. It's a large black cat with yellow eyes. Its fangs are revealed.
Tashyia grabs the salt on the table and pools some in her palm before tossing it over her shoulder.
Tashyia says: An' that be to keep the evil eye away. Ye ken?

Threnn recoils.

Tashyia hands the salt to her.

Threnn takes the salt and does the same.

Tashyia says: That be the stalker. S'the thing in yer mind ye don't wanna face. It be yer own nightmare.

Threnn says: No.
Threnn wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold.

Tashyia says: No?

Threnn says: 's everyone's nightmare.

Tashyia is curious what you are up to.
Tashyia says: This card I see most oft when someone's sick. . . . but ye ain't sick. An' neither is yer mon. Yer bairn's fine. . . . there's sickness about the card though.

Threnn says: What's it... what's it mean in relation to the other cards?

Tashyia taps The High Priestess.
Tashyia says: It might be 'er.
Tashyia says: Luv, I'd love to say I ken what all this means, but I'm in over me 'ead. What I see is a problem, a big problem, involvin' yer red headed mon.

Threnn laughs bitterly.

Tashyia says: . . . I see a pack. Yer pack be tight. They'll be helpin' ye. I see . . . I see a journey. It be a long one. But not long in the time sense?
Tashyia shrugs, confused.
Tashyia says: More long on ye. It'll age ye.

Threnn says: Days I'm amazed my hair's not white already.

Tashyia says: . . . I see the High Wenchling, and I see a bairn. I see yer fears in this cat.
Tashyia taps The Stalker.
Tashyia says: . . . an' that be all there is to tell.

Threnn nods.

Tashyia pulls the cards into a neat pile and promptly vanishes them somewhere.
Tashyia says: Ye ain't payin' me for that one.
Tashyia eyes you up and down.
Tashyia says: But yer gonna do somethin' for me.

Threnn stops fumbling at her coin pouch.

Tashyia leans over and roots through her bags for a moment.

Threnn says: I'm... what?

Tashyia pulls out a small bag. It's clearly hand woven in greens and blacks. There's a sweet smell about it.
Tashyia offers it to Threnn.

Threnn takes it gently, mystified and a little spooked. She turns it over in her hands.

Tashyia says: Now listen to me.
Tashyia reaches out and snags her hand.

Threnn says: Listenin'.

Tashyia says: That be old gypsy magic. It keeps the evil offa yeh. Ye keep it nearby, the Eye won't find yeh. I ain't got the foggiest what yer dealin' with, but I know it ain't pleasant.

Threnn says: 's about as far from pleasant as you can get.

Tashyia says: It be a small piece o'magic, but it be the best I got. I make all me own charms.

Threnn smiles gently, aiming for composure.

Tashyia shows her a myriad of bags. They all look exactly the same save for the color. The stitching is precise, the way they are corded is precise. Each has a small silver charm hanging from it.

Threnn says: Every bit helps.

Tashyia says: Me da was a workin' man, like meself. 'e taught me everythin' I know 'bout gypsy magic. 'fore 'e died to orcs that is.
Tashyia rolls her shoulders and begins to pack her charms away.
Tashyia says: Now 'en. ye ken keepin' it by yeh til this ordeal be over?

Threnn says: Damn right I will.

Tashyia says: An' I don't know where ye be goin', but travel safe. yer journey's a tough one.

Threnn says: You sure I can't offer you anything?

Tashyia says: Just promise me ye'll be safe an' good to yer northron mon.

Threnn 's smile lights up her whole face.

Tashyia says: They're stubborn an' 'ard 'eaded, but they're as loyal as all.

Threnn says: That's an easy one.

Tashyia nods.
Tashyia says: Right then. I think m'done for this evenin'. Yer readin' was a bit o'er me 'ead.
Tashyia lets out a hearty chuckle.

Threnn says: Well, I thank you for it.

Tashyia says: An' I thank ye. What did ye say yer name was?

Threnn says: Threnn. Threnn Bittertongue.

Tashyia smiles.
Tashyia says: Right. If ye ever need me, m'here. Tash Ni'Liam at yer service, luv. I travel with the faire. Lately anyway, though m'itchin' to get up north to see what I can do 'bout that mess.

Threnn says: Might be I'll visit again.

Tashyia says: Arthas took somethin' from every Northron lass.
Tashyia frowns sadly for just a moment.

Threnn nods sympathetically.
Threnn says: Feel sometimes like he took a piece of Bricu's heart with him. I'd kind of like to get it back.

Tashyia says: Likely, luv. 'e's stealin' 'earts to replace the one 'e gave away.
Tashyia 's accent thickens.
Tashyia says: Right then. Get ye 'ome. Ye got that babe to worry 'bout an' there be a chill tonight.
Tashyia grabs her cane from the side of her table and stands with a soft grunt.

Threnn says: Thank you, again.

Tashyia says: Yer welcome.
Tashyia smiles.
Tashyia says: Sleep ye well tonight, Threnn Bittertongue.

Threnn says: Light send it so.

Tashyia says: An' may the light keep ye safe an' warm in colder climate.
Tashyia lets out a hearty chuckle.
Tashyia says: S'what I thought ye'd say.
Tashyia grins wickedly.

Threnn hefts the little pouch and tucks it in her pocket.

Tashyia walks off, her bells jingling and a soft song warbling in her throat.

[Bricu]

(To Skin a Nightmare)
Wherein three men meet and discuss how to trap and skin a cat from Emerald Dream.

They talked of skinning the big cat in Moonglade.

Aleros sent letters to both Riders--since neither was talking to the other--with the appointed time. Ulthanon was close by, challenging the authority of the Temple in their ministrations to Indarra. Bricu arrived early, then walked off to speak with a druid, "who owed him a favor."

Ulthanon arrived moments before Bricu returned. They met at a crossroads, with Aleros in the middle. He watched both men carefully. Neither said a word to the other. Their last meeting ended with harsh words and a bruised jaw, and Aleros was ready to stop their foolishness if need be. Bricu moved first. He rolled two of his fouls smelling tobaccoo cigarettes, and handed one to Ulthanon with a wink. Ulthanon accepted the cigarette and nodded to him.

Problem solved? Aleros thought. Regardless, it is time for the hunt to begin.

"I've a room appointed for us. Follow me." Aleros led his fellow conspirators to a room he had prepared with in a barrow den. The room was guarded with sigils and ogham as protection against Nightmare and Shadow. When the three were settled, Aleros spoke.

"So it seems we have a bit of a problem we need to get down to before we all go rushing off on boats to the north." The Riders nodded almost imperceptibly at this. Aleros continued. "A certain cat has decided that he didn't get what he wanted so is now displaying his capabilities to anyone involved. As far as the Cenarions are concerned, Fedwyn is no demi-god nor is he a druid of any significant ability at this point. He's just developed new strange abilities. I've not taken this directly to the heads of the Circle but rather my organization within the Circle and given the go-ahead to take whatever steps are necessary." He looked between the two as he talked. "I have my own ideas for how we can go about prodding at a way to stop him. He doesn't want to be caught, and he's mostly dream energy at this point. I've been in Threnn and Bricu's dreams and I haven't seen any sight of him since the first wave of terrors."

He pulled out a small pinch of herbs and began chewing on them. "Do either of you two have any ideas?"

"He's more dream--Nightmare---than druid." Bricu said before puffing on his cigarette. "All I know is that he got the book from Annie's dreams--an he tortured her. Threnny told me 'bout the spiders." Bricu sighed, "Ale, yeh get yer copy? Maybe there's somethin' in it."

Aleros pulled out a drawer of his desk, procuring the book and set it on the table. "Nothing of importance, but that makes it even more important. There's no pertinent information in here, everything is recorded information from the initial encounters with nightmare. There are many books out there about methods to combat nightmare itself, or nightmare manifesting in people. There's books about cures, remedies, and records of those who were not able to resist nightmare. There's every source out there of what we've done so far in regard to the nightmare. What Fedwyn is - is nightmare. An anomaly. If you're looking for something new you don't go to research that's been done." He paused, waiting for the two to absorb it. "You go to the beginning, where there is no research and try to find something that nobody else sees. The question is what does he see in the book that we don't. You two have read it I'm sure. So any ideas?"

"I still say we go in there and cut him off at his source," Ulthanon said, dragging on the cigarette and offering Bricu another nod, "We enter the Dream, the three of us, and we hunt him down. Or we lure him out into our world in such a way that offing him here would also kill him there."

"Huntin' him in the dream w'd be as bad as huntin' Tirith in the Ol'City. Gettin' him out'll be almost as hard--at least that's doable." Bricu turned to Aleros, "I didn't read it. Zombies an jail time cut inta my reading--as well as me not readin Darnassian."

"I thought your contact was getting you a copy in common?" He gave a small sigh. "It's about initial encounters with the nightmare. As I said, nothing too big." He nodded at Bricu's point. "We can't hunt him in the dream, that's his element, besides getting Bricu in there would be nigh impossible and time consuming. Plus I'm sure you haven't walked it in a long time Ulthanon. No, I have an idea. You know the dreamcatchers I've been making, with the dream scales? They trap nightmares until they are willfully released. It might be hard to lure him out, but it might also be our only shot. We'd need a master trapper," He looked at Ulthanon. "And we'd need bait, someone he wants to talk to out of the dream." He looked at Bricu.

"I imagine it will take a very large dreamscale, and maybe several large ones, but I think I can handle that, if you two can handle the other aspects."

"I'm fine with bein' bait, but I'm gonna be bringin' this up ta me Threnny. Don't plan anythin' with out her. Ulth, go kill a few dragons. Ale, I guess yeh start workin' on a net. I'll go work on bein' bait." Bricu rolled another cigarette before continuing, "Who's watchin' Indi?"

Ulthanon shrugged his shoulders, "She reports to the temple at Dusk. She's got this under control. Now just need to skin the fuckin' cat."

Aleros nodded in agreement, "The circle has watched, albeit from a distance. Fedwyn's demise is more important. We can address her when he cannot threaten any of us" Aleros began to chew on more the herbs, "I can get a few dragon scales, those will be the net, from a very powerful dragon might I add. I just need a few volunteers to put themselves in danger's way."

"I'll see if I can get more folk then. Won't be trouble. Yeh lot get ta work on yer nets an' dragon scales. I'll go figure out how ta piss off Fedwyn. Shouldn't be too hard." Bricu got up from his chair. "On me way back, I'll see if Sarno or anyone has other word on Indi. Yeh lot have fun in the woods."

"Brick, she's got this. We're good." Ulthanon finished his cigarette and stamped it out. "Fedwyn is one we have to take out."

"Aye. I'll just be surreptitiously thorough mate. Now if yeh'll excuse me, I'm tellin' the better angel o'me nature that I'm riskin' me neck again. Cheers!"

"We will be in touch Bricu." Aleros said, still in his chair.

Bricu nodded then left the barrow mound. He put his hand in tobacco pouch, and felt for the trinket he had the Ice Witch make. It was cold enough to sting his fingers when he touched it. A prism of ice containing the hair of Grizelle Indara Leafwhisper. "Aye. We'll all be in touch."
--
After Bricu left, Ulthanon took a pinch from Aleros' herb pouch and started chewing it. "Keep this in mind Ale. I'll hunt the dragons and help with the scales. When the time ciomes, this is my cat to skin. Got it?"

Aleros nodded. "Your lover and your quarrel. Be quick about it. The longer he remains the Dream, the more difficult it gets."

"Good. I hope it's difficult. Worth more when I sink the arrow right between his damn cat eyes. Sweeter still when I skin him and steal his heart. I owe him twice over now, and Shirvallah has demanded his heart's blood. For this and for Indi."

Aleros watched Ulthanon's eyes darken as he spoke. "For you, your love and your patron. Go. I'll begin weaving."

Ulthanon nodded, "I'll bring you back your scales. You make sure that net holds him."

Aleros nodded in response.

--

Alone in his room, Aleros started weaving his dream catcher. He watched as his the sigils and ogham he careved into the ancient beams glowed brighter with each braid, twist and gem added. In time, the room was nearly as bright as the noon day sun. All that was left for the catcher were the scales.

And the bait.

[Bricu]

Prelude to a Nightmare

Wherein Bricu and Threnn discuss the merits of reading forbidden knowledge and angering ancient cats


Threnn was packing up her forge tools when Bricu walked in the door. She was covered in soot and smelled of the forge. He was frowning and smelled of cheap tobacco.

"Yeh'd think that between the three o'us, we'd have a better plan than we do?" Bricu said before he kissed her.

"Which three?" She said after kissing him in the northern fashion.

"Ale an' Ulth." Bricu said.

"You talked with Ulth?" Threnn asked.

"Briefly. We had a cigarette an' talked on savin' his harpy." Bricu shook his head.

"How did you apologize..." Bricu stared at Threnn before she could finish her thought. "Right. Northmen don't apologize."

"Not when we're right." Bricu looked from Threnn to the crates full of tools and back to Threnn. "Packin' up?"

"The few things I forgot. I'll have them shipped when we head North, for after." She pointed towards her belly. "You know."

He smiled in return, "Aye, I know. How're yeh feelin?"

"After I was done being sick this morning, I started knitting a blanket."

"How'd it turn out?"

Threnn held up two knitting needles and a thick spool of wool, off of the lid of the crate. "It didn't. I started over. I think if the points were sharper, I'd have to wear my breast plate."

"Och, so what else yeh work on?" Bricu said as he took her fingers and kissed them.

"I had tea with my mother and finished that book Anna brought you." She pointed towards his desk full of papers. "It's terrifying."

"Yeh read the whole thing?" Bricu asked. He walked over to the book and thumbed through it.

"Since I put down the hammer, I haven't had a lot to do. You still do the cooking, Kara's doing our washing, my mother helps tidy up. I would have gone stir crazy here if I didn't have something to do. So I read it."

"And, what'd yeh find?"

Threnn folded her hands across her lap. "The nightmare is older than we thought--but I think Fedwyn's had more contact with it than anyone we've ever encountered--outside of Ysera herself."

"That it?"

"What else does my dear husband need, and what, pray tell, is he willing to pay?" Threnn said, grinning brightly.

Bricu didn't return the smile. "Ulth is huntin' rogue greens an' Ale's making a giant bloody dream catcher. I'm bait ta catch the tosser. Then we're gonna kill 'im. I'm not sure the plan's gonna work. It didn't stop his wee ...creatures..." Bricu winced as he saw Threnn stifle a shudder. "From doin' their harm. Last thing we need is a dozen or more wee Fedwyn kittens runnin' around."

"The dreamcatcher caught him though. That's a good first..." Threnn stood up and walked towards Bricu and the book. Sliding under his arm, she started looking at it. "I think there was something about early attempts at stopping or understanding the Nightmare..." She turned around, blocking his view of the book and the desk. "I can look it up. I read it once. I just need to look for the specific passage."

Bricu wrapped his arms around her. "Yeh sure? I can give it a read."

"I've read it once." She said. "It'll keep me occupied on the boat trip. If you like, I'll even ask Aleros to double check the dreamcatcher. You're not the only one with plans and favors. Remember, I'm a villain through and through. I can scheme like the best of them."

"Light help Fedwyn now that yer his personal villain."

"Oh no love. I'm not his personal villain. I'm yours. And now I'm going to distract you from other heroic tasks."

"Strewth! A hero's work, it's never done?" He said as he scooped Threnn up into his arms, "No sir. It isn't." She said as they away from the work table, packages and papers.

The book, Blood and Sunset, lay open on Bricu's table. Vivid line drawings of Corrupted Ones seemed to leap from the page. The illustration was further illuminated with eyeless spiders, spinning their webs in and around the illustrations. In the dim glow of the candle, the spiders danced around the vines in the foreground of the Nightmare corrupted flora.

[Threnn]

The Nightmare travels through the Emerald Dream, oil-slick and ever-shifting...

Threnn wondered if the flowery descriptions were a direct translation from the original Darnassian, or if her sister had added her own flourishes here and there. But no, this was too important for Anna to try flexing her poetic muscles. She'd assured Threnn that it was as true to the Kal'dorei text as she could get it, and Threnn believed her: Anna's spoken Darnassian might be atrocious, but her grasp on the nuances of the written language was almost eerie. The more archaic the source material, the better.

She'd been over the book a hundred times, trying to figure out what it was that Fedwyn needed from it. Whatever it is, he has it already. She saw Anna's face, contorted with fear and pain as the dark shapes of Fedwyn and Aumery Fane pinned her down. Of all the dreams - no, of all the nightmares the druid had made her watch, that one tore at her heart the most. The others had faded to little more than a pang of guilt when she met with their dreamers in the flesh - Fingold, Shaila, Aely. She ached a bit for Khallar, too. No child should be dragged into this ugly business.

But when it came to Anna, to what that fucking cat had put her through... She clenched her fists as a wave of fury and helpless shame washed over her. Big sisters were supposed to protect their little sisters.

I'm not doing such a great job of that. Light send that Fin can take better care of her.

She pushed away from the desk, her frustrated gesture cut painfully short by the wall behind her. The previous occupant had somehow managed to shove a writing desk and chair sideways into a tiny recess in the eastern wall. It kept the limited floor space free for a bed, a couple of travel chests and a chair, and gathered the sun's heat in the mornings. It felt like the one warm place she'd found since coming north.

Their room in Valiance Keep couldn't be a third the size of the one they rented in the Gilded Rose, and Bricu had bribed or threatened his way into getting them one of the larger rooms. She'd seen the room Fin and Anna were sharing at the inn, though, and counted her blessings; theirs was little better than a glorified closet.

Rubbing the back of her head, she stood and began to pace, three steps one way, three steps the other. What was missing? What did he want?

Bricu had told her of the plan he'd formed with Ale and Ulth - another, larger dream catcher, the scales of green dragons woven into it. Bricu as bait, to lure Fedwyn out for a chat. Ulthanon, laying in wait to trap him. It could work. Light knew, Aleros' dreamcatcher had certainly snagged its share of nightmares.

Something skittered across her wrist.

Threnn yelped and swiped at it frantically, certain she'd see a tiny grey spider making its way up her arm.

But there was no spider.

She looked down and saw the cause of her panic. Anna had brought flowers earlier, when she'd dropped off another round of herbal concoctions for Threnn. Bright yellow goldclover peeked out of a vase, drooping a bit in the afternoon light. She'd brushed up against the petals on her way past, that was all. "I'm a bloody idiot," she muttered, and bent to rearrange the blooms she'd knocked askew.

Beside the vase (a hastily repurposed teapot) sat a thick leatherbound journal. Anna's notebook. She must have forgotten it in her rush to meet up with Fin. Threnn picked it up and flipped through. This wasn't her original herb diary, but the stamp on the spine bore the mark of the same Stormwind bookbinder as the first. Her sister demanded a certain level of quality in all aspects of her work. She'd spent weeks trying to recreate what she'd lost when her previous one had been stolen - years of research and recipes, sketches of the plants she'd found and the uses for them she'd discovered, gone. Taken by Aumery godsdamned Fane; they knew that now.

--his clawed hand clutching at her throat, her hands balled into fists so tight, blood trickled from where her fingernails dug into her palms--

Stop it. Threnn shoved the dream away, focusing on the neat block-lettering that Anna used for notetaking. The later pages bore the heading "Threnny" and were filled with lists of herbs and elixirs. She carried the book over to the bed and sprawled across it, imagining how terrible some of those things were going to taste when Anna foisted them upon her.

Flip. Flip. Flip. Anna's sketches were quite good, though without her labels, Threnn never would have known which flowers bloomed on the pages before her. Thenia and Padraig had given her drawing lessons for Winter's Veil one year, and she'd spent the following spring trying to capture everything she could with her pencils.

Wait, what was that?

She turned back a page. The twisting vine wrapping its way around the margins looked oddly familiar to her, as though she'd seen the image before somewhere. At the top, her sister's writing proclaimed it nightmare vine.

"I'm not a cat," said Fedwyn. "I'm a man with an unfortunate circumstance. And I'm a man who can help you with your Indarra situation. I can't walk out there." He nodded outside of the barrow den. "Too long out there exhausts me to the point I could fade. There are places I can't go. Without the vines of the nightmare plant, I have an hour here and there before I must return. That's not enough time to do anything, really."

"So what do you want?"

"If I could find my answers in the dream itself, I would. Believe me. There is a book in Azshara, written long ago called Blood and Sunset, in the Darnassian tongue."

She'd only seen the plant once before, when they'd returned from the barrow den and she'd demanded that Anna teach her how to find where it grew and recognize it. They'd flown around Shadowmoon Valley, where it was most abundant. Anna lectured her on what she knew about the plant while guiding Threnn to seek it out in dark crevices, though her knowledge was limited.

But mine's not. Taking the journal with her, Threnn returned to the desk. Blood and Sunset lay open to the introduction. She thumbed through it, further in, until she found the picture that had been lurking in her memory. Anna had translated its name literally - "Dreamer's Lament" - but there was no mistaking it now, not beside the other drawing.

She set the journal down on top of it, open to the sketch of the nightmare vine, then rummaged through a box of books and found the original Darnassian tome that Bricu had taken from Indarra's house.

It took a few minutes of paging back and forth, but eventually she found it. She spread all three books out over the desk and stared. "Oh, sweet Light."

Before, she'd glossed over the passage that told the history of the plant. It hadn't seemed relevant. Now, the words Anna had translated screamed across the page:

It grew in the space between the Dream and the Waking World until the fel taint's touch twisted it and made it real, made it spread like wildfire across the valley of Shadowmoon and beyond. The nightmare creatures tasted its grasping leaves and grew stronger thereby. For a time, the Corrupted Ones could almost touch the world outside the Dream.

It was as though she were witnessing the plant's evolution in the three books - the original vine, before it was corrupted by the Nightmare; the vine-in-transition, as Anna must have unconsciously borrowed from her own studies as she copied the sketch; and the vine as it was now known, there in the priestess' own journal.

They sat on a bench in the park, Threnn and the cat. She pulled the Light into her hands, to see what kept him from slipping into elf-skin, as Skyborne called it.

"Uh. Stop me if you've heard this one before. You're not... here. I can touch you. And hear you. But there's no... presence." She passed her fingertips over his fur. The glow held to her skin for a moment, then dissipated into the air. "I can touch you, but then again I can't."

"He'll fade without it," she muttered. "He'll slip right out of their trap."

"Without the vines of the nightmare plant, I have an hour here and there before I must return. That's not enough time to do anything, really."

An hour. Would it be time enough to spring a trap? How far would Bricu have to lead him once he came out of the dream? Fedwyn was ancient beyond her imagining; he'd be too smart to simply appear in front of her husband. And if he could fade at will, throwing himself back to the dream, he'd be gone at the first sign of danger.

He wanted the nightmare vine so he could remain in the waking world. It would make him solid. It would give him the freedom to roam about outside the dream.

What if rather than granting him his freedom, we can make it work like an anchor instead? Chances were, they wouldn't be able to get him to swallow a mouthful of it willingly. But what if... Alchemists could extract the oils from plants, or grind them into pastes. What if Ulth could coat an arrow with the vine's essence? How much would they need? How fast would it work?

Bricu would be home soon, once he'd finished drilling the new recruits for the day. She'd share it with him then and see what he thought; they could fine tune it over dinner.

Dinner. She'd told him about Fells' suggesting that she eat more red meat to help with her afternoon fatigue, and he'd jumped at the chance to try one of the new recipes he'd picked up in the barracks. Threnn's belly growled a bit in anticipation. "Aw, now," she murmured, patting the slight swell where her growing child lay nestled. "I only had lunch an hour or two ago. You can wait until your da gets home."

A wave of drowsiness crept up on her, despite the urgency of her discovery. Right on time, really. Well, what else am I going to do while I wait, knit? She snorted, glancing at the impossible tangle of brightly-colored yarn that was her most recent attempt.

The fortune teller's charm sat on the table beside the bed. Threnn crawled between the covers and reached out to pick it up as she settled in. She didn't know if the gypsy woman's magic could truly keep away evil, but the woman's intentions had been good. And what was wrong with a little superstition, anyway?

Its weight was a comfort in her hand as she drifted off to sleep.

[Yva]

He’d watched the wrong Bittertongue.

He’d been so amused by the gentleman’s buffoon-like antics, Fedwyn had ignored the wife, and she’d been busy.

Too busy.

He first discovered her nasty little secret when she’d napped. Her spawn was making her tired, and she found her bed three, sometimes four times a day to catch up on sleep. He didn’t spend much time in her dreams - there was that nasty dream catcher, after all, and slipping around it was nigh impossible - but every once in a while he’d take a glance to see what she - they - were about. Bricu was so busy reliving Stratholme that he didn’t really pay too much mind to other things, but Threnn . . . Threnn dreamt about everything. She dreamt about her family, her friends, her husband, the sky and the moon.

It was in her dreams that he found the most important details of their workings. To say that he was /not/ prepared to find the history of the nightmare vine was an understatement. The little paladin had managed to put two and two together and get four, and the nosy little beast was about to tell her husband about her discovery. Earthsprung couldn’t have that. He had too much riding on Grizelle’s recovery now, and the humans growing any more impertinent could get downright tedious with so much at stake.

There were many options open, but killing her didn’t seem appropriate. She hadn’t outright attacked him, had only found an important detail that could make his life difficult, and in the small, moral part of his brain, he recognized that sentencing her unborn child to death was unnecessary. Besides, she was an intelligent woman - she could serve some use after a time if molded the proper way, and he of all people knew how to mold the minds of others. Dreams were an awful thing. Living inside one’s own head could drive you positively mad. That was when he was at his best.

He slinked into the shadows of her room, pulling himself from the dream in an oily heap. The dream catcher swung above his head, and he growled at it, stopping himself from getting too loud. He couldn’t have her awake - she wasn’t any use to him that way.

His magics were vast but they weren’t omnipotent, and he needed a trigger, something to act as a catalyst for what he was about to do. There didn’t seem to be many relics in this small room, there weren’t any magical anythings for him to twist or distort. The keep was positively barren.

Wrong, you fool. What does she have in her HAND.

It SMELLED of magic, that slightly crisp electric smell that made his nostrils flair. Somewhere, little Threnny Bittertongue had gotten her grubby little fingers on a charm bag. No simpering village witch made it, either: this was a ward against evil, and he knew enough of craft to recognize the potency there.

Perfect. Simply twist, and . . .

The spiders poured from the corners in droves, tiny little eyeless things with disjointed legs and seamless bodies. They ran up the sheets of the bed, they ran over the pillows. They swarmed over her clothing - skitter, skitter, skitter. He couldn’t get onto the bed, that dream catcher kept him away, but they could. They were a weightless black swarm covering her , and then, the bag. He watched his nightmare children edge the charm away from her, and he watched them do what they did best.

Weave.

The threads of the charm bag were undone, and then redone, but much changed from the original magics. It was no longer a protective ward of half black, half green; the threads meshed now, crisscrossing in such a way that the original intent of the thing was so twisted, it BECAME what it was trying to undo. It no longer held evil out. It held it in.

The ordeal took less than ten minutes. Bittertongue’s woman never moved, she never made a sound. The spiders pulled the silver charm away from her hand, letting it fall to the floor. When they climbed back up to the rafters, Threnn’s body was swathed in a gossamer sheet of spider silk.

All he had left to do was have her touch the newly wrought relic.

He approached the side of the bed, careful to step away from the druid’s dream catcher. He moved his snout near her, and with a small shove, the bag came into contact with her skin.

The trap was sprung.

He wasted little time trotting over to her table and retrieving what was rightfully his, the texts he was supposed to get in the first place. The Darnassian and common versions of Blood and Sunset were now in possession, not that he quite needed them any longer. By trying to undo him, the tart had taught him what he needed to know. She’d actually helped him put the last of the puzzle together.

His strength, it seemed, was also his weakness. Wasn’t it always the way?

With a quiet purr and an even quieter laugh, he slid back into the place between dream and the real. He shifted from solid cat to a bodyless shadow. The room around him looked the same as the one in the barracks, but it wasn’t the same at all. It was how her dream remembered it. And when she woke? Well, it wouldn’t be a real waking - it would be a waking into his world: The Dreaming.

It wasnt how he'd planned it, but watching her rest, her hand moving instinctively to cover the small bump of her ever-growing stomach, he wasn't sure it was all a bad thing.

[Aleros]

He had taken a small party to one of the portals, Ashenvale. Lethon, once a noble green dragon now completely consumed by the horror of the nightmare, his mind a mish-mosh of terrible, irrational fear and anger. His dreaming, unseeing eyes not detecting the small band. Good, that's what he wanted, they weren't there for Lethon. They were there for the corrupted Drakes and Dragonkin. They began slaughtering.

Dragonkin are a peculiar race, not dragon, but not humanoid either. It is unknown exactly where they came from, some legends tell that they were humans, night elves, other species who spent so much time in service to the dragons that they became dragon-like themselves. It didn't matter where they came from. What mattered is that they served the dragons of their own color unquestionably. They were strangely repellent to nightmare, but still had nightmare on them. Not that the party was there for that either. Aleros typically ignored the fragments of nightmare that the dragonkin were gifted by their superiors, but upon inspecting one of the bodies he found a peculiar bauble completely encased in nightmare essence. He kept it for now. They slaughtered many, gathering smaller weaker dream scales until they were able to find one of the Drakes near the gate. Subduing it, it too was killed before its scales were taken. Large scales, the largest reaching the waist of a human if it were stood on end.

He bade those who wished to leave to do so, for the next part of his work was gruesome. He began removing the skin, sinew, bone, tendon, any usable body part he could from the bodies of the drake and dragonkin. He had them stored away in bags and taken to his workshop in Ashenvale, long abandonned when he and Seylon moved to Zangarmarsh. There was dust piled near a quarter of an inch thick in places. It all needed to be cleaned out.

He had many vials of the cleansing waters from Lake Elune'ara on his shelves. He began soaking the body parts and scales in large tubs throughout the workshop as he dusted it. He placed the strange object he had found in one of the cleansing bowls. Almost immediately the nightmare around it began to hiss and retreat away from the waters of the bowl. It would take some time, but it would be cleansed and he could find out just what it was.

As the body parts were cleaned of any blood and taint, he began to craft the trap, the enormous dream catcher. Frame from bone, wrapping of the frame from green dragon skin. The weave and web from sinew and tendon, and then the giant overlay from the Dream Scales. The size of it would lay about twelve feet in diameter.

During his long craft into the night, his box buzzed. He'd only left its frequency open to emergencies only.

"Sugar, 's Khal, he won't stop cryin'. Tried everything, ain't nothin' workin'."

He couldn't stop work in the dreamcatcher, plus it was such a long journey to head north. He wouldn't be able to come back and finish work at least until the next evening. A druid of the talon could fly fast, but there were still time limitations.

"He's not screeching about Sky or kitties, is he?"

"No, s'just crying." She put the box close to Khal for emphasis.

He pulled his own box away for a minute, the crying was loud through the box. He'd left a very strong Dream catcher with his son, so that couldn't be it. But Threnn had a Dreamcatcher too. "There's nothing strange around him right?"

"No sugar. How's Threnny?" There was obvious worry in her voice.

"I'd assume the same, nobody has tried to reach me about her since I left." He thought for a moment. "How about you and Khal go and visit Threnn, maybe stay at the keep for a bit."

"S'a good idea. How are you holdin' up sugar?"

He smiled. "I'm fine, I'll be up all night with this but making up sleep is never hard in my line of work."

She laughed. "'s the truth."

In the line of dream catcher craft, this would be the largest ever recorded. The frame was not made out of the typical condensed dead bark of a world tree, the webbing was not made out of the string of spun grass. The entire thing was covered in Dream scales on one side, looking almost just like the flank of a dragon. To catch a really bad dream you needed a really good dream catcher, right?

[Threnn]

They mourned publicly. Minutes after, Bricu asked Haemon to fetch his copy of Blood and Sunset. He would be gone for hours, if not days, leaving Annalea and Bricu alone with their loved one.

After they wept, Bricu walked to Threnn's armor. "Yeh know the history o'Conn an'the hundred afflictions?"

Anna looked up from studying Threnn's face. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "I might've heard it along the way, but I can't remember it."

"Accordin' ta the church, Conn suffered a hundred calamaties an' never turned on the light. He was rewarded by the light an' made a king. It's an older Nothern tale." Bricu started looking at Threnn's helm.

Anna smoothed out the blanket that covered her sister and stood to watch what Bricu was doing. "Yeah, that's ringing a bell. But... what does it have to do with Threnny?"

"Right now it has more ta do with us, her family, than her. Strewth, I hope it has nothin' ta do with her." Bricu set her helm back on the stand and started examining her shoulder guards. "The last of his trials, before thankin' the light, his wife an children were killed by raiders. He was too poor fer a proper burial."

"I hardly think either of us are much like Conn, brother-mine. We've been through trials, yeah, I'll give you that. And we're in service to the Light and Elune, but..." She glanced back at the bed. "I don't think either of us has Threnny's faith, let alone Conn's."

"Neither o'us has her faith, aye. Yeh mix Light an' Elune. I mix ol' an new. So did Conn. Conn was saved by Peter the Seven Blessed. His epistle is in the library. He talks about Conn an his seventy seven trials. That's the original story, ad co-opted by Peter. It's a tale o'Northren conversion as much as it oral history. Fifty o'his "trials" are raids and skirmishes. A few are crop failures. The nasty bits involve trolls. But yer right Annie, I don't have her faith...but I'm not givin' up on her."

She passed a hand over her face. "I don't understand, then. Why are you telling me this story?"

"Dependin' on the tale, he either kept his faith an was rewarded, or he was the right bastard for the right time. No "righteous battle" involved--unless yeh believe in revenge over retribution." he set the shoulders back, after he removed the breast and back plate. "I'm sayin' this 'cause I don't have enough faith ta think this will just work out. I'm worried what it's gonna take ta get her back---if we even can get her back."

"We'll get her back," she whispered. "We have to." She frowned at the breastplate. There were scuffs and small dents in it, but it was a solid-looking piece. "What are you doing with her armor?"

"Gettin' it ready in case he won't let us get her back."

Annalea blinked. "Getting it--" She shook her head. "Bricu, she's not dead. She's sleeping."

"Fedwyn has her. I got a way ta keep her body from dyin' but he can snatch her away from us, an' until we got a plan ta save her, he's got us by the stones."

"So, what next?" Her voice rose. "Do you have someone back home digging a grave for her already, then? Before the ground gets too cold? Or are you going to ride out in the morning and find a nice spot up here for her?"

"No. I'm doing what a husband is supposed ta do. Either I save her or I, an the rest o'us who are lookin' ta save her die tryin'." Bricu set the breast and back plate back on the stand. "Got anythin' else yeh wanna scream?"

"A few things, yes! You say you're not giving up on her, but here you are, getting damned good and ready to do it. It's been a day. Hell, for you it's only been a few hours." Her voice dropped. "Three weeks. Three fucking weeks you were asleep, and sick as hell, and never once did she start planning your funeral. Never. Once."

"I was sick. She's held captive by a Nightmare. I'm plannin' on leaving' ta go bring her back. He may kill her before anyone has a chance ta stop 'im." Bricu said with forced calm, "I'm not givin' up, but I'm sayin' goodbye incase I don't come back."

"In case you don't? You think mouthing off to him, threatening him's going to help her? You can pick fights with Ulth, or Tarquin, or whoever the bloody hell you want and get a black eye for it. You do that to Fedwyn and he's not going to bloody your nose. He's going to take it out on Threnny. You didn't give him the book and he came after me. Now it's your wife. Now it's my godsdamned sister."

"I'm not gonna threaten him. I'm not pickin' a fight. I'm not debatin', arguin' or settin' up ta fight him. I'm not sittin' here an' waitin' for him ta release her either. And I know what he is gonna do ta her if I threaten him, Indarra or his plans." Bricu held the same forced calm. "I'm sorry he came after yeh. Now he's got MY wife. YOUR sister. Yeh want me ta just stay here an' weep?"

"I want you to put her fucking armor down!"

"An' I want yeh ta shut the hell up. Yeh sound as daft as yer mum, but half as helpful. But that isn't happenin' either, is it?"

"Not when you're measuring her for her tomb, it's not." Annalea peered at Bricu. Her next words came out low and cold: "Is it easier for you if she's gone? To do what you came up here for? Is that what all this is about?"

"Life without her ain't life. It isn't easy. No bloody way. That ain't it at all. But yeh don't want ta see me without her."

"No, I don't. And I don't want to see her without you. But it's what you've been spoiling for since goddess knows when. You die, what's she have to come back to?"

"A stubborn stupid girl an a baby. Yeh finished yer harpin yet?"

Anna shook her head. "I'm not enough. That baby's not enough. She's terrified of the thought that you might not be there come the spring."

"Then quit yer harpin an LET ME THINK!" Bricu shouted as loud as he could.

"About what? Which funeral dirge you'll ask me to sing? I know at least fifty. Would you like to hear a few?"

"Tell me Annie, when yeh train with Elune do they teach yeh how to be a daft nutter like Indi, or is there actual teachin'? How t'save me wife an'baby."

She threw her hands up in the air and went to sit back down by Threnn. "Tell me when you have something useful that doesn't end up with you dead." Her sister's hand peeked out from the covers. Anna took it in her own and held it.

"Uther's balls!" Bricu went back to examining Threnn's armor. "I need ta know what's in the Emerald Dream."

"Shadows of what's here. Or what used to be. Elune's creatures in their spiritual states. It's what the book said. And the Nightmare. It moves. It isn't fixed. You can stumble into it and...oh gods, sometimes you can't get back out, and... Threnny? Threnny, come on, now. Please." She shook Threnn's shoulder again, but got no response.

"Annie," Bricu said, regaining his calm, "more on the dream. Focus "

"I don't know very much at all. I only read it the once, when I translated." She closed her eyes. "I don't know how anything works in there. Druids can go in and out, but you know that. There are potions that let you see into it a bit, but I don't know how much control they give you. Gods, I don't know. I don't know anything fucking useful."

Bricu sighed. "Right then pray. Quietly. I'll scheme. When Haemon brings the book over, we'll study it again, alright?"

"I'm not even very good at praying. Hell." But she slipped off of the bed so she was kneeling anyway, and bent her head close to Threnn's.

"Me either." Bricu put Threnn's armor down. He looked at her sword. "Hell."

"That's why you put yourself in charge of scheming."

"She's me wife. Yeh can do the screamin'. I'll scheme."

"I should likely do my screaming elsewhere, then. It's... " She sighed. "It's not going to do her any good here."

"Come back tamorrow an scream more. Yeh know how, an' where, ta find me."

"That I do." She bent closer, whispering in Threnn's ear before she stood and made her way to the door. She paused as she reached for the knob and let her hand fall to the side a moment.

Then her right fist looped up, slamming into the wall beside the doorframe. Her soft hiss of pain was the only accompaniment to the crack of breaking bones. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. "'Night, brother-mine."

"Night Annie." He didn't look up as she left. When he heard the door shut behind her, he picked up the armor stand, armor and all, and flung it across the room.

Then he put his head on Threnn's chest and wept again.

[Bricu]

(the following takes place monday night)

The music of the Travelers was faint in the windswept hills of Arathi. It was all Bricu heard before he started shouting.

"I placed the Dreamfoil under me bloody pillow yeh wanker! Now where are yeh!"

His voice echoed through the countryside.

"Come on yeh tosser! I'm here!" He turned around at the slightest sound, but it was just the wind rustling through the hills. Except for the music of tin whistles, he was alone in the Highlands. Dressed for battle he followed the music.

At the bottom of the hill a perfect spiderweb caught his eye. It was small, in-between a series of purple thistles, but noticeable. In the web was a spider, the size of the yellow and black orb-spinners, but it was colored the greens and black that Bricu associated with him.

"This is what I do now? Talk ta bugs?" he said to the spider. It stood perfectly still in its web. "Fine, talk ta bugs."

He leaned in closer, "Yeh tell yer boss. I want my wife back. He's got once chance ta make it better, or he'll regret ever comin' outta his wee Kingdom."

The spider, in response, did nothing while Bricu followed the music to his next dream.
--
Bricu followed the sound of the tin whistle to Moonglade. The lilt was replaced by the staccato of the battle march. On horseback now, Bricu commanded the Legions behind him. Human, Dwarf, Gnome, Blood Elf, Deader and Orc--all those in Azeroth who'd been wronged by druids in the past. Behind them, Kalimdor burned.

"Call upon yer Demi-gods an' dragons. I'll send them all ta the nether!" Bricu shouted. He lead the charge, swinging his axe against Tauren and Night Elf alike, cutting a swath to the barrow mounds. Druids of all kinds--Talon, Claw, Antler--called upon their magics to stop him. They failed. He called upon the Light and broke his shackles. He took his Draenei forged axe and felled the mightiest of ancients. Even the Dryads fell to his blade.

When the battles ended, and the druids could fall back no farther, Bricu walked to barrow mounds for the Sleepers. Without batting an eye, he doused them in Gnomish Fire, and burned Moonglade to the ground.

The whistle, now a fife, called him to finish what he started.

--

The Fife was off key. This wasn't the music of the Legions, this was the screams of a terrified people. This suited Bricu just as well. He strode forth from the sea, growing taller with each step. The screams of the Kaldoeri reached his ears.

"Use when all hope is lost yeh feckin' tossers! Yeh should have saved me Threnny when yeh had the chance." The force of his shouts sank the war ships sent out to stop him. He toward over Teldrassil. "Cursed!" he shouted as he swung his axe. "Long eared." The tree shook. He saw elfs falling to the sea. He only smiled. "Bastards!" He slammed his axe into the trunk of the tree a final time. The world howled as Teldrassil snapped in half. Bricu howled with laughter. "Swim ta yer cousins! I'll make the seas boil!"

He walked south, following the screams of the people who didn't save his Threnny.

--

From their room in the Gilded Rose, Bricu saw the whole world burn. His Threnny slept--it had been so long since she had been awake--but she lived. That gave him hope. It gave him direction. He looked down at her, sleeping in her finest armor...

..and froze. His Threnny, gentle and just in life, would never have stood for this. He brought Straholme to Azeroth. His world, his home, was now a charnel house.

He could see the forests of Elwynn burn. He could feel the great mountains of the Dwarves crashed to the ground. He could smell the seas, and the Naga, boil. He heard the screams of the people who his Threnny loved. The people they both swore to protect. He heard the last of them scream as his Stratholme came for them.

Threnn didn't wake up. She didn't move a finger to stop him, let alone embrace him. He was alone in a world he had burned, and his wife, the one he burned the world for, still slept.


"What...What have I done?" he whispered. Still Threnn did not stir. "Och, love. Threnny....Oh Threnny, I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong." He laid his head on her chest and wept until his Stratholme took them both into the Nether.


--


Threnn was still asleep when he woke up, but the world was not burning. He smelled the smoke of the hearth, but not the fires of Stratholme. Above the hearth, the crest of their family hung, lit by the dying embers of the fire.

His eyes were wet. He had been crying in his sleep. His dreams were still sharp, clear and terrifying. How far would he go for her, now that she wasn't there to guide him? He wrote them down in his journal quickly, to preserve them for someone else to exam...any clue for Fedwyn.

There were no great cats in his dreams. Not one shadowcat. This wasn't Fedwyn's doing. This was Bricu, removed from Threnn.

"Well then. No more bloody dreams again." He said as he wrote in his journal, More Dreamless Sleep potions.

His notes and scriblings finished, Bricu looked at Threnn. She was still dressed in her civvies. His gaze drifted over to her armor--newly dented from his most recent outburst--and shook his head. "Not yet love. Let's get yeh inta the proper clothes."

In the field, he had dressed soliders for the medics and the priests. It was all the Church let him do in the war against the Silithid. He never thought he'd have to do it for Threnn.

Bricu was careful and gentle as he started removing the clothes she slept in. He started to hum, ever so slightly, to keep from crying again. Terenas Menethil came to mind first, which kept his tears to a trickle instead of a torrent. Her necklace,the first he ever made for her, was removed first. Then her blouse and undershirt. He kissed her her on the cheek as he put the fleece and silk night-gown over her head. It was supposed to be a surprise, purchased from Delion just before they took the boat northward.

His surprise happened when he started removing her breeches and underclothes. That's where he felt the baby stirring. It was faint at first, but when he put his hand over her belly, he felt it clearly. There. Right where Threnn put his hand weeks (two weeks and three days to be exact) ago he felt life. Bricu stopped humming and let himself feel hope.

[Yva]

He watched and he waited for her to wake.  When at least he saw her blue grey eyes flickering open, he purred and stepped from the corner of the room.  He allowed his cat form to fall away, because finally, he’d figured out what had changed, he figured out what he needed to be whatever he wanted to be.  The fel that had tainted the nightmare vine was the very same power that had changed him.  It was the same power that had made him the half nightmare creature he’d become.  And now?  Now it was the same power that would grant him his freedom, because knowing what it was, he’d stop using the druidic energies he’d trained in so long ago and embrace this new magic.
 
Fur became skin, paws became hands.

Finally he was as he ought to be, a kaldorei man standing near seven feet tall.  He wore the traditional kilt of the druid-kin, his dark green hair pulled away from his face.
 
As the paladin fully woke, he smiled, leaning against the doorframe of the room that was not truly her room any longer.
 
“Good morning Misses Bittertongue.”
It wasn't her husband's voice that greeted her.  She forced the last cobwebs of sleep out of her mind and stared at the Kal'dorei man in her doorway.  She'd locked the door, hadn't she?  Threnn sat up slowly, watching him warily.  Her eyes flicked around the room, noting what weapons might be at hand.  What time was it?  Had she slept all afternoon and through the night?  More importantly...

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

“Would it be better if I purred?  You know me.”

"Oh, sweet Light, no."  The closest things would be Bricu's service daggers -- she'd sharpened them yesterday -- but there was no subtle way to lunge for them.  Words were her only defense for the moment.  They'd have to buy her time.  "You found someone to help you, I see."

“Yes.  You.  I’d been so busy trying to use druidic magic to cure my anomaly, I ignored the fel taint inherent in the nightmare.  Now . . . “   he spread his hands wide.  “The world is my oyster.  Control the fel, control the form.  I can be anything I want to be.” 

"Well, I don't know that I can say 'you're welcome.'  Why are you here, then?  You don't look like you need any other healing." 

He opened his mouth to speak but then hesitated, instead throwing the bedroom door wide.  Outside the room was not the barracks, but a lush green pasture with brightly colored flowers and ever moving vines.
 
“I’m not ‘here’.  You’re ‘here’.  If I could find appropriate words I’d use them, but showing is likely more appropriate than attempting to explain.”

"Bloody..."  She rose and walked across the room to where the druid stood.  At the threshhold, she stopped, peering outside but not crossing it.  "Why did you bring me here?"

“Because you’re dangerous.”  His voice was flat.  “Your information is anyway.  Until I can better work around it, you’re here.  I can promise you the discourtesy will end when I’ve figured things through, but until then . . . “  He spread his hands wide.

Her eyes widened.  "No.  Hell with that.  What are you going to do, drag everyone who figures something out into this place?  Someone else'll put it together sooner or later.  Send me home."

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going to start with the histrionics.  Frankly, I could have killed you while you slept, but I didn’t. In fact, it’s my magic keeping you and your child alive.  I simply need time to figure this out, and when I’m done, I don’t care where you go.  Until then?  You’re here.  My kingdom is your kingdom.  There’s the door.”
 
He stepped over the threshold and around him, the city of Stormwind appeared.  Even the smell of baking bread began to waft through the air.  “It’s not such a bad place to spend your time, Threnn.  It can be everything you want it to be.  For that matter, I can be who you want me to be.”
 
The image of Fedwyn Earthsprung waivered, and in his place stood a red headed northman with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
 
He smiled. 

She squared her shoulders and glared.  "I'd hardly this histrio--"  The words died on her lips.  The likeness was perfect, from the slight smirk in his smile to the pale green of his eyes.  Even the way he looked at her, love mixed with the anguish of the ghosts he had yet to put to rest... it was too much.

"Stop it," she whispered.  "Stop wearing his face."

He let the illusion slip away.  “Why?  Why should I?  Should I extend the same courtesies to you that he extended to Indarra?  How about tit for tat, then ? A kindness for a kindness?”

His snarl was swift and vicious, and he moved too fast for eyes.  One moment he was standing in that Stormwind likeness wearing Bricu’s face, the next he was in front of her, his hands gripping her upper arms.  His upper lip curled.  “Why should I spare you when your husband can’t be a proper gentleman to a woman that was abused?  Regardless of her crimes, what was done to her was unspeakable.  What’s it like having to be human being enough for both of you?  And what does it say about you that you’re willing to do it for him when he’s so completely undeserving?”
 
He thrust her away.
 
“Don’t tell me what to do.  Not here.  Be glad that you have your life, because if I decided to return the gracious favors he did for MY woman . . . “
 
He shook his head.

"It says that I love him."  She wrapped her arms around herself, resisting the urge to rub at the place where his fingers had bitten in.  "He knows where I stand on Indarra, and on what he's done.  I won't make excuses."

"So what now, then?  I just wait here?"  She paused, one hand skimming over her belly.  "You said you were keeping us alive.  Where?  I mean... am I here all the way, like you?  Or...?"

"Oh, you're here.  As here and as real as you consider me."
 
His sigh turned into a growl.  "You do as you please while you're here.  Unlike some, I will extend as much of a courtesy as I can considering our unsavory situation.  I have no intention of keeping you, but you will stay until I've finished my tasks."
 
The landscape around them changed from one of a room and a door leading to Stormwind to a decimated Teldrassil, the bodies of a thousand kaldorei littering the ground.  "And while you're here, think on this . . . this dream wasn't my creation.  This is your husband's creation . . . a world of destruction and death because he /couldn't get what he wanted from people who had nothing to do with your predicament/.  I used to think he hated Arthas because of what he had done in his name.  Now, I think perhaps he hates Arthas because he's the only other individual in this world with a similar capacity for hatred."
 
The body of the man shifted to a cat once again, and he began to walk off, flowers blooming beneath every footfall as he moved around the corpses.

Threnn stood stunned amidst the carnage, watching him go. When he'd faded from her sight, she knelt and said a prayer for the dead.